Somebody Else’s Lunch

First of all, it was cold. Well, not stone-cold, but clearly warmed-over. The fries tasted like old shoe leather and the burger was dry and had almost no flavor. The meal tasted like something I’d had in the fridge and heated up in the microwave, which like was exactly true. I was in a rush but wanted a decent meal, something I rarely get anymore, so I took the time to drive out of my way to Chili’s, where they served me someone else’s lunch. I have no way of knowing, but I’m pretty sure this entire meal had been sitting around waiting for someone to eat it. First of all, it came out too quickly, maybe ten minutes after I’d ordered it. My reluctance to go to Chili’s in the first place was that the restaurant chain takes forever to grill a well-done burger. You could be sitting there almost a half-hour before the food comes out. The reward for your patience was a juicy, flame-broiled, high-end third-pound of America’s finest that would all but make you faint. I have no idea whatsoever what that was yesterday, or what circumstances led to somebody else’s lunch being brought to my table under Chili’s flag of excellence.   CONTINUED

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